The Stumbling and the Steadying
by who is sabrina
Summary: On a frozen winter night, Stoick warms up to Toothless. Set some time after the first film. Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD.


In the fireplace of the Haddock house, the fire was roaring cheerfully, casting a friendly orange glow onto the table before it, and illuminating the pensive face of one Stoick the Vast. Yes, the word you read _was_ "pensive", as Stoick the Vast happened to be thinking - yes, thinking. In fact, he had been thinking for quite some time, a fact made apparent by the deeply-etched frown on the chief's face. You see, what had happened was this:

Stoick had been seated (as he was now) at the large wooden table inside his home. He had just finished a hot and filling bowl of stew, and was washing it down with a mug of ale when the door swung open. A blast of icy air flew in the door, and the chief turned to see his son stumble into the room, nearly falling flat on his face. But that unfortunate mishap was, of course, prevented - by the simple expedient of his dragon's well-timed positioning.

"Thanks, bud," Hiccup muttered, and Toothless' answering warble was accompanied by the thud of the front door as Hiccup shoved it closed.

"Son," Stoick greeted with a nod.

"Hi, dad," Hiccup replied, a bit wearily. "How did things go today?" he asked conversationally, crossing the room to the basket of fish and pulling one out without taking his eyes off his father.

"Very well," Stoick responded, gulping down a bit more of his drink. "An easy day today," he grinned. He watched as Toothless soundlessly padded over to sit expectantly behind Hiccup, and then turned his gaze to his son once more. His hair was a bit disheveled, his posture a touch diminished, and he looked as if the only thing keeping him awake was sheer power of will. "Looks like your day was a mite bit harder than mine," the chief commented amusedly. "You look as if one good gust of wind will knock you over."

"I thought I always looked like that," Hiccup remarked, without missing a beat. His father laughed heartily, and Hiccup grinned, too tired even to laugh. He tossed the fish in his hand over his shoulder, and it sailed straight into Toothless' waiting mouth. "But you're right, dad," he agreed. "It was a pretty rough day today. But of course, it always is, what with Snotlout and the twins," he shrugged.

"Ah, with those three, I imagine it's difficult to have a day you can call 'easy'," Stoick chuckled.

"Only one way to an easy day," Hiccup said sagely as he turned to start up the stairs.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Re-define the word 'easy'," he answered simply. Then the young Viking managed one last tired smile before turning and trudging up the steps, Toothless right behind him, head on his back, helping him up. The pair vanished through the doorway to the sound of Stoick's cheerful, booming laughter.

It was when his laughter died down that the chief of Berk had started to think. Because, he realized as he turned back to his drink, there was a feeling of warmth spreading its way through his body, and it had nothing to do with the ale. And it wasn't the humor Hiccup had shown, either. It was something else. Something deeper.

And so the Chief of Berk was to be found, staring into the fire pensively, attempting to dredge up the maddeningly elusive reason behind the warmth he felt. He thought back to Hiccup and Toothless' entry, and then mused over all the following events, and as he saw Toothless' tail disappear through the doorway to his son's room in his mind's eye, he was suddenly struck with the solution. And it surprised him. It surprised him to no end.

Because the warmth he had struggled to identify had not come from something he himself had done. It, surprisingly, had not even come from his son.

It had come from Toothless.

And the feeling was gratitude.

Of course, Stoick the Vast had been thankful for Toothless for some time now. How could he not be, after the dragon had saved his son's life? The night fury had done an amazing thing, and the chief would be forever grateful. But this gratitude now was something different.

It was, Stoick realized, the little things that mattered. He pictured the way his son had stumbled into the house, only to be easily, almost absent-mindedly, caught by the dragon. The image was exceedingly familiar - it was a commonplace sight around the village, Hiccup doing the stumbling and Toothless doing the steadying. The stumbling was just Hiccup being Hiccup; he had always been clumsy, and surely always would be. But the steadying was something different. Stoick thought on it, and nodded confidently. It was the steadying that had brought on this feeling.

At first, the steadying had been a conscious reaction. A "Whoa! Don't fall!" kind of thing. The young viking's ability to trip over absolutely nothing constantly caught the dragon off guard, just as it had astonished the vikings when Hiccup was younger. Toothless would clearly be surprised as Hiccup would start to teeter, but thanks to his lightning-fast reflexes, more often than not he would be able to stop the boy's descent before he hit the ground.

What Stoick had seen tonight was different. The steadying had changed. No longer was Toothless caught off guard when Hiccup inevitably reverted to his clumsy ways. Now, when Hiccup fell, it was a law of the universe that Toothless would be there. Stoick replayed in his mind again and again the way Toothless had maneuvered so simply and casually in order to keep Hiccup from hitting the ground. It was almost as if Toothless _knew_ when Hiccup was going to lose his ongoing battle with the concept of staying upright. It was almost eerie how well-attuned the two of them were.

And on top of all the stumbling and steadying, Hiccup was attuned to Toothless as well. Stoick had been shocked and impressed when Hiccup had thrown the fish back to Toothless in a perfect arc without even a glance. He knew his son's aim was not exactly the greatest in the village. He also knew that, had he been in his son's place, there would have been no way he would even be aware of the dragon's presence behind him; Toothless had padded up in utter silence. Hiccup's uncanny ability to know exactly where his dragon was waiting was nothing short of magic, or miracle.

And then Hiccup had turned and struggled up the steps, and Toothless had helped him up without a moment's hesitation, even though he had not even been asked to do so.

With a sudden rush of affection, Stoick stood up from the table and quietly ascended the stairs. He reached the top, and then peered into his son's room, being careful to make no sound.

Hiccup was already in his bed, though still sitting up. He was facing Toothless, who was seated right beside the bed. As Stoick watched, his son reached out a hand and petted Toothless on the head, smiling tiredly.

"G'night, bud," he mumbled. In response, Toothless pushed his head into his rider's chest with a contented purr. Then he loped off to his own bed, heating it to his liking and then curling up happily. Hiccup scrunched down under the covers, and then turned to blow out the candle, and the room was doused in blackness.

Stoick smiled, and turned to go, but stopped in his tracks when he heard his son's voice once more.

"G'night, dad," Hiccup mumbled sleepily. For a second, Stoick thought he had been seen, but then quickly realized that he hadn't. His son was simply wishing him a good night, even though he was not there to receive it. The warmth again filled the chief of Berk.

"Good night, son," he whispered quietly. And out of the darkness, he noticed two glowing green eyes, watching him with interest.

"Good night, Toothless," he added. "And thank you," he said sincerely.

The fireplace downstairs was still blazing cheerfully, but this time Stoick paid it no mind. He had no need of fire tonight; he was feeling warmer than he had all winter.


End file.
